


Chafing

by RenShep



Series: RenShep's Men of Bioware [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Sex Pollen, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 16:30:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5463404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenShep/pseuds/RenShep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fluffy little one shot containing awkward humor, the unintentional ingestion of an aphrodisiac, and one pious Chantry brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chafing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bushviper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bushviper/gifts).



**Yep. I wrote a sex pollen story.  
**

Hawke sat in her study before the fire. A book lay face down on her lap, the pretense of reading having been given up when she continued to feel her eyes drift away from the page and towards the door. She'd given everyone the night off and shooed them out of the estate for the evening and the house was quiet. In fact, it was so quiet every little noise had her ears straining to make out sounds she might be missing. Sounds like moaning.

_Moaning would be good._

Or, more specifically, the dusky brogue of one Sebastian "let me lead the Chant" Vael crying out in pleasure. The not-quite- brother and sort-of-prince was currently in her bed. Naked. With a raging hard-on.

And she was sitting in her study. Alone.

She'd spent the first hour during this vigil doing her best to think about anything other than what exactly was taking place above, but she'd long given up that pretense as well. It was hard enough ignoring Isabela's words earlier in the night, which kept ringing in her ears every time they strained to catch any sort of noise drifting through the door. As did the sound of the pirate's laughter over the matter.

"I wonder if he calls out Andraste's name when he comes?" Isabela had whispered, barely managing to hold in her humor.

Hawke couldn't help but respond dryly, "Why shouldn't he? I call out the name of her husband."

Isabela had laughed so hard at that she bumped into the doorframe with a heavy thud and drew Sebastian's attention away from his own misery for a moment. His brow lowered and he glared at them both. "I find nothing humorous in this situation," he said with as much dignity as he could muster.

In truth Hawke saw less humor in it than Isabela did, and her mirth was more from sheer awkwardness and perhaps no small amount of guilt. She and Isabela had left him to deal with his condition (alone) and moved downstairs - though not before Isabela had suggested they take turns at the keyhole. Not that Hawke would ever do such a thing.

Well, she probably wouldn't do such a thing.

It was Isabela's fault that Sebastian was in his current state. Sort of. Hawke wasn't entirely without blame. A small package had been delivered to the estate but addressed to Isabela. That was when her curiosity had first gotten the better of her that day. She'd moved to simply peek into it when Sebastian had taken it upon himself to remove the temptation from her hands - the contents burst forth in a cloud of red powder between them. Hawke had been spared the fallout thanks to the open window, which blew it directly into poor Sebastian's face.

  
In a panic (she thought she had inadvertently poisoned the Prince of Starkhaven, after all) she'd sent Bohdan and Orana both in search of Isabela and Anders. The latter could not be found, but the former appeared not long after to happily inform them what exactly Sebastian had ingested.

"Maiden's Foil," the pirate had cackled with unrestrained humor. "It's an aphrodisiac from Nevarra!"

"You're having aphrodisiacs delivered to MY home?!" Hawke had cried.

"I couldn't very well have it sent to the Hanged Man," she had insisted just as a groan of agony came from Sebastian.

"There has to be something we can do for him!" Hawke had cried, blushing nearly as deeply as Sebastian who was curled up in the fetal position in clear agony.

"Oh, there's plenty we _could_ do for him," Isabela had said suggestively. "But I have a feeling he'll be taking matters into his own hands," she paused, adding on a sigh,"Pity."

The drug, it turned out, had no antidote, but needed to... well, _come_ out of his system, literally and figuratively.

It had been a long wait.

She glanced at the door once again. Just a flight of stairs and a few steps between them, perhaps twenty five feet. The estate was well built, with thick walls and solid doors, and voices rarely carried between rooms. Even if he was quite loud she doubted she'd be able to hear much of anything from here. She didn't really take Sebastian for being the vocal type, but certainly he must make some sort of sound. Everyone did, didn't they?

It was easy to get lost in such thoughts, particularly with him so close, and in such a state. Not that she had been holding a secret flame for him. He was far too in love with Andraste for one, not to mention he was far too preachy for her tastes; but he was a handsome man, a very handsome man, a fact impossible not to notice. Very well built as well, she would guess. Though she never saw him out of armor or chantry robes, he had broad shoulders and the posture of a very fit man.

A very fit _chaste_ man.

Of course they had all heard that he had once been the black sheep of his family, an embarrassment even, and had been forced into the Chantry against his will due to his delinquency. She found it all quite difficult to believe of the soft spoken brother, with his white enameled armor and puritanical facade. The man blushed and stuttered like a virgin over each innuendo and suggestion yet he was said to have been rather wild in the past. It was quite a contradiction. She would be a liar if she said she hadn't wondered what that younger, and supposedly hedonistic Sebastian was like.

But in the present, pious Chantry Sebastian was either lying in her bed dead from embarrassment or gripping his cock in one of those broad, capable, blunt fingered hands pleasuring himself.

And she was going to sit here in the study. Alone.

 _But what if he's having some reaction to the Maiden's foil?_ suggested her inner voice.

 _No,_ she said back to that voice. The poor man had suffered enough mortification for one night, she would not invade his privacy. She would sit here and not picture him stroking himself. She was not picturing those full lips parted on a moan, his head thrown back in bliss, as for the first time in Maker knows how long Sebastian rediscovered the joys of the flesh.

Not picturing that at all. Nope.

 _But what if he's swollen up with hives and having trouble breathing_? Insisted that voice. _What if Sebastian is dying?!_

It was a weak excuse at best. Isabela assured them that other than an increase in body temperature, heart rate and desires as well as some... well, swelling, that he would be fine after a few hours of taking the matter into his own hands, so to speak.

But he had been quite heavily doused with it, and it had already been nearly two hours…

Flimsy excuse or not she found herself slipping out of the study and creeping up the stairs.

She paused before the door, taking a deep breath she put her ear against the wood trying to make out any sound she could over the beat of her own heart. After a moment she heard something, a groan she thought, but it most certainly did not seem to speak of pleasure. She held her breath and pressed her ear more firmly against the door. A grunt, possibly a hiss, and then another pained groan.

Something really _was_ wrong.

She straightened her spine and began considering her options. She couldn't just stand around and do nothing, and she knew he would not ask for any assistance. In fact, he would probably prefer it if she left the house entirely. Another groan passed through the door, this one deeper, more pained. It did a fine job of making her decision for her.

With a nervous exhale she hesitantly raised her hand and knocked.

His response was instantaneous.

"Don't come in!" He shouted, voice holding an edge of panic.

"I, ah... just wanted to check on you," she said as calmly as she could from the other side of the door.

"I'm .... fine," he said in a strained voice.

Well, that was terribly unconvincing. "It's been a couple hours," she began, not knowing where to go from there.

"I am _quite_ aware of that," he bit out.

_Okay, he's angry. Understandable. I did, after all, poison him._

"Are you ...okay?" She asked hesitantly.

Silence from the other side of the door.

"Sebastian?" she prompted.

There was a pause before he answered quietly, "No."

"Is there anything I can..." _do for you?_ "...ah, get you?" she asked, voice an octave higher than it should be.

Another pause, longer this time, "I... ah...do you have a poultice or something for," he cleared his throat uncomfortably, "chafing?"

She was going to _kill_ Isabela.

She kept her house somewhat stocked with potions and unguents, but not many and considered what she had on hand, "I have something for burns I think?" she offered, doing her best to keep her voice from rising uncomfortably.

"Yes," he practically shouted, "I'll try it. Anything. _Please_."

The plaintive note in his voice set her to action. Within minutes she had raided her medical stores and found all she had before rushing back upstairs. "I have it," she said through the door wondering how to proceed.

She heard him speaking quietly on the other side of the door but could not make out the words. Was he...?

"Sebastian... are you, praying?" she asked.

"I am most assuredly _not_ praying," he snapped. His voice dropped and she could hear him muttering to himself sarcastically, "Though I'm sure the Maker and I will have a very long talk about this later."

She managed to keep a strangled laugh from escaping, which she was grateful for since the situation was most definitely _not funny_.

She repeated her initial statement, "I have it."

After a moment he spoke again, "I ah... I hate to ask…

"Anything," she said, wincing at how quickly the word left her mouth.

"I don't think I can walk in my current... state..."

It felt like she had a bucket of ice water dumped over her head at the same time someone set her on fire. She was going to have to go in there. With Sebastian. A naked Sebastian. Or at least and only partially clothed one, all doped up on some long lasting aphrodisiac.

 _Don't panic_ , she thought, spreading her free hand as one might to quell an excited crowd. She could do this without making it worse on either of them... probably.

Suddenly she felt like some virginal idiot who had never seen a naked man before. "Okay," she said calmly, for both of their sakes, "You, go ahead and, cover yourself or... whatever ... and let me know when you're ready."

"I'm decent... I mean..." he fumbled over his words before finally settling, "Just come in!"

She tried to keep her eyes averted, but then she worried that doing so would make him more uncomfortable than actually looking. Maker knew she didn't want to embarrass him than he already was. Her eyes flicked up quickly to find his were locked on hers.

 _Oh, you poor man_ , she thought again. His face was flushed with embarrassment to be sure, but it also shone with sweat. His hair, always fastidiously brushed back was mussed; dark chestnut waves brushed his ears and stuck to his forehead damply. His normally calm facade most assuredly anything but, and his eyes were near frantic.

She placed the jar on the edge of the bed and tried not to notice how broad his shoulders were, or how his nostrils flared with each breath or how his hands were fisted into the bedsheets. She certainly did her best not to notice the swath of dark hair across what she could see of his chest. And her fingers certainly did not want to run through it.

Not. At. All.

"I'll get you some water and... check on you in a minute," she blurted out and fled the room.

She returned several minutes later (having splashed cold water on her face to try and cool herself down) with a ewer of water for Sebastian and some clean cloths in the event he wanted to wash the sweat from his face or... elsewhere. She knocked lightly on the door.

"What in the void did you bring me?" he hissed from the other side, "Sweet Andraste it _stings_!"

She didn't wait for an invite but simply opened the door to find him quickly pulling the covers back up. "It .... Maker it hurts," he groaned.

She grabbed one of the cloths she'd brought up and wet it, apologizing profusely as she did so, running to his side she handed it to him so he could clean the salve off.

"I thought you were a healer!?" he said through clenched teeth as he cleaned himself as discreetly as possible.

"Being able to cast a healing spell doesn't make me a healer, I am not Anders!" she said defensively.

"Thank the Maker for _that_ ," he practically hissed.

Anders. That is precisely who was needed here. "Maybe I should send someone to find him. He's better at this sort of thing..."

"Absolutely **not**!" he ground out, eyes murderous.

"Okay! Okay! No Anders, just ...me then," she held up her hands in submission to his wishes. "I, um... well, if I could take a look I might be able to heal your... chafing." She suggested half hoping he’d say no.

She could see him considering her words, though rejecting her idea seemed to be winning given the hard look in his eye. Stubborn man. Not that she really blamed him for it. The last time she'd brought him along for a job she and Isabela had a bit of a contest to see who could make him blush deeper. And that wasn't the first time she'd done something similar. Come to think of it, they did it nearly every time he was within earshot. Was it any wonder he didn't trust her motives?

"You have my word that I will not mention any of this to anyone," she assured him, "Not even Isabela." She could see him considering and pressed on. "It won't be any different than when I used to heal Carver's scrapes when he was younger."

 _Well, that's a lie,_ she thought to herself the moment she said it. It would be most definitely different. Not only because she'd (blessedly) never needed to heal Carver in this particular area, but also because she could find nothing brotherly about the gorgeous man laying in her bed at the moment.

But she was going to look at this as a healer even if she did lack Ander's skill. She could do that. Probably. She was going to be clinical and professional; she was not going notice anything but his condition. She was certainly not going to be torn between laughing awkwardly and running to the corner to vomit into the chamberpot from pure mortification.

After an extended hesitation Sebastian nodded curtly, and both of them drew a deep breath.

"Very well," she said, as clinically as she was able, "I'll need to see the... area."

He nodded again and averted his eyes.

She tried to swallow, but her mouth had suddenly gone dry, so she cleared her throat instead, and pulled back and the blanket. That silky swath of hair on his chest narrowed as it made his way across his well muscled, narrow waist and ended…

 _Maker, I have found my calling._  
‘  
Well, it seemed that the prince of Starkhaven was both well endowed and beautifully formed.

 _Very_ well endowed.

_Andraste you greedy bitch._

She cleared her throat to interrupt her thoughts. Okay, the problem, the poor man was raw from his... attention. The skin thin and red in spots where those strong, broad hands had been…

Okay, Hawke, get it together.

She swallowed hard and reached forward, but her movement was too slow and Sebastian caught her hand.

"What... what are you doing?" He asked, his voice rising in distress.

She smiled at him uncomfortably, "I'm going to heal you?" she wasn’t entirely certain why her statement came out as a question.

"You can't touch me... there!" He said, incredulous, eyes large and owlish in his flushed face.

"I cannot heal you without doing so," she insisted, which was true enough. Magic only went so far.

"But Hawke, it's no'... it's _really_ not proper!"

Okay Hawke, you have to calm the poor man down. You can do this. "This is not the first penis I've seen, Sebastian, neither will it be the first one I've touched," she stated. In truth, she hadn't seen many and even fewer in this... state. And certainly not any nearly as large, and assuredly the man it was attached to was incredibly appealing…

"Hawke!" He exclaimed by way of protest, cutting into her traitorous thoughts.

She raised her chin stubbornly and said quite bluntly, "Would you prefer to rub every last bit of skin off your cock?"

Somehow his face became a deeper shade of red.

Without waiting for his response she pulled her hand from his grasp and wrapped it around his engorged flesh. He gave a strangled moan, half in pain and half in pleasure, and his hips lifted from the bed. He was hot steel in her hand, the weight of him alone made her…

She swallowed hard, she came here to heal him, not torment him. Or herself.

With a great deal of concentration she directed her energy towards his wounds. The flesh beneath her hands healed, rawness given away to smooth, unmarred skin. He was no less hot in her hand, and if anything he was somehow harder. Her breath nearly caught at the sight of a sticky drop of precum forming on the broad head of his shaft. Her grip, almost of its own traitorous will, tightened and she drew her hand up, coaxing more of the liquid from him. His back arched off the bed, hips thrusting into her hand and a deep, ragged moan of pleasure escaped him.

_Oh, Maker, that was nice._

She went to stroke him again, wanting more of that delicious sound, but his hand came to grasp hers suddenly, halting her movement. She snapped her eyes to his face. His nostrils flared with a draw of his breath, his eyes were half lidded and nearly hidden in shadow.

"Hawke," he said, his voice a warning.

"I could stay and help..." she suggested. _Marian Hawke, you are a very, very bad person._

He swallowed hard, "How could you even suggest..." he shook his head. Despite his words he seemed conflicted.

Oh, she knew she should just get up and leave, she knew she should, but instead she said, "Would it be such a sin to help a friend... in need?" _Marian Hawke, you are a bad person and you are most definitely going to the void._ She at least had the decency to blush at her suggestion. "I admit to being curious about the man you were before you became a brother... and I would be lying if I said I never found you attractive."

"My vows," he began.

"Would be broken," she finished on a sigh, "I know. I should not have suggested ..." she cleared her throat to hide her discomfort. She released her grip on him and shifted to leave, quietly muttering, "I'm sorry," but his hand shot out grasped her wrist again before she could move, pulling her hand to rest on his chest. She was powerless to resist running her fingers through the soft thatch of hair she'd been eyeing earlier.

"I ... I am more than just a servant of the Maker, I am also a man… and I admit that I have wondered what it might be like... with you," he stated hesitantly before cutting himself off with a shake of his head, "but I would not take advantage."

"If anyone were taking advantage, Sebastian, I fear it would be me." That, at least, was very _very_ true.

He looked up at her, an unspoken question hanging between them for half a heartbeat until his other hand threaded itself through her hair and he brought her mouth down to meet his. That beautifully shaped mouth, those perfect lips were pressed flush against hers but remained all but unmoving, almost as though he were still considering his actions.

Suddenly he slid his mouth across hers, and just barely parting his lips he suckled at hers, pulling first her top, and then her bottom between his, tugging on one gently before moving to the other. She mimicked his movements and soon they fell into a natural rhythm and she sighed against his in pleasure. Maker, but he was skilled, and those lips, firm and satiny against hers were impossible to resist.

He took the opportunity to suddenly sweep her mouth with his tongue, firm lips insistent against hers, hand gently tugging at her hair to improve the angle so he could kiss her more thoroughly.

She could do nothing but submit to the demands of his mouth. She hadn't expected this... this mastery. She knew that he wasn't always a chaste brother of the chantry, but she could not have predicted this sort of skill. She hadn't expected to be so overcome by the pressure of his mouth on hers that she would forget all else as her body and mind turned to liquid beneath his touch. She barely even recognized that he had reversed their positions, so that he was leaning over her, her hand still sifting through the soft hair of his chest, the other grasping a thick bicep.

She could feel his cock, heavy against her thigh, just the silk of her robes separating them.

"Are you certain?" He asked suddenly, eyes blazing in the low light.

"Oh Maker yes," she said without hesitation.

His hands quickly moved to divest her of her clothing, and then once more to cup and knead and learn the contours of her form. His hands were every bit as practiced as his mouth, touching her just how she wanted to be touched, without her even knowing she wanted it. His mouth dropped, kissing and sucking at her neck and collar bones, and further, to nibble and tease at her breasts until he reverently took one taught nipple between those full lips.

She mewled. She hadn’t known she could even make that sound, but she did it a second time when his teeth scraped against her sensitive flesh and he suckled her between his lips again. His hair was thick and remarkably soft between her fingers as she threaded him behind his head to hold him there. Despite her grip, he did not stay still.

He moved to the other breast, treating it to the same sweet torture as the first, before he began moving down her body further. His mouth continued its exemplary work, sucking and nibbling at her skin, his tongue dipping into her navel, but he did not stop there. When it finally dawned on her what his intention was she quite nearly froze up in embarrassment. She had heard about this… act. Had been curious about it but, couldn’t quite help the sudden shyness which seemed to overwhelm her and the prospect of such.. intimacy. Especially coming from him.

“You don’t have to…” she said in a voice far too squeaky to actually belong to her.

He spread her legs, placing one of her thighs over his shoulder and placed a long, open mouthed kiss on the other. He glanced up, a look on his face she wouldn't have ever expected to see him wear, his voice thick and his accent more pronounced than was typical, “If I’m going to pay the price for this night, Hawke, I’m going to do so for all the right reasons.”

“Ah… but, this isn’t…it’s for you, not...” suddenly tongue tied. She became even more so when he placed his own tongue between her legs and lapped at her like a cat enjoying a bowl of cream. After the first swipe of his tongue he closed his eyes and seemed to savor the taste of her.  His savoring did not last long, and his mouth soon returned to her center. Whatever reservations she might have dissolved at the broad swipes of his tongue, as her bones did the same and she sank into the mattress wordlessly. And then he did something, something so sinfully good she couldn't help but cry out.

He sucked that nub of flesh between his lips and her hips bucked towards his mouth, her own fell open and she hissed, “Fuck!” she immediately cringed, hoping she didn’t offend him. “Sorry, language, I know…it’s just...” he suckled her again and once more she cried, “Oh _fuck_!”

She heard him chuckle from between her legs, felt the reverberation of it through his core and his shoulders shake with it, but he did not remove his mouth from her. No, he continued to suckle and lap and torment her with his talented tongue.  He added a finger to the mix, slipping it into her easily and curling it _just so,_  using the pad of that finger to work some sort of magic of his own deep inside her. Before long her thighs tightened around his head, her back arched more than she thought it was capable of without snapping, and she cried out a string of gibberish as came harder than she ever had before.

She fell back, breathless as he crawled over her, a cocky smirk on his face. This was not the Sebastian she knew. No… this was the Sebastian from before, the one she thought as more fiction than fact. Maker help her, he was going to ruin her and she was going to welcome him in doing so.

The broad head of his cock was settled between her thighs and his mouth found hers again, his tongue, salty and flavored with her release. She felt his thick length press through her slickness seeking entrance. He slid into her with agonizing slowness and she fought the urge to jerk her hips upward and impale herself on him. She did not give in, despite the need which had settled deep inside her; she allowed him to set his own pace. This was on his terms, not hers.

Though clearly it was working out in her favor.

He inched forward, glacially slow, agonizingly patient. When he had finally seated himself within her fully she inhaled a gasp at the incredible fullness of him just as he exhaled a low moan.

"Hawke," he said, his voice breaking on the word, his tone part plea and part prayer.

She, on the other hand, was suddenly grateful she hadn’t given into impulse, because she currently could find no pleasure in their position. "Sebastian," she responded, "you're... huge." In fact, it was borderline painful if anything. She was so full that her body stung from the invasion and she feared if he actually moved he's split her in two.

"Too much?" he asked, jaw clenched and a fresh wave of sweat beading on his brow.

"Ah... a bit," she admitted, "I may have, um, exaggerated my experience a little…”

His eyes grew enormous, “You… Hawke, tell me you’re not a virg...”

“Well, I wouldn’t be anymore, would I?” she couldn't help but joke, not realizing he’d take her words for truth.

“For the love of Andraste, Hawke!” A look of horror replaced the strained expression he wore and she could feel him beginning to withdraw.

“Wait, sorry! No no no no no! Lost my virginity years ago. At Ostagar, in fact. Funny story actually…” she was babbling, she knew, she tended to do so when nervous.

“Hawke!” he growled between clenched teeth, halting her incoherent ramblings.

“Sorry… I just… I’ve only done this a couple times, to be honest,” she said sheepishly, “And with no one half as large. It’s also been a… long time. I just need a moment or two. Please.”

He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath and giving a patient nod. When he opened his eyes and looked down at her she couldn’t help but notice the slightly curious expression on his face.

“So all of that teasing that you and Isabela made me suffer through?”

“ _Well_ , I suspect most of what Isabela said was true but… I was making pretty much all of it up simply because you turn the most gorgeous color when you blush,” she admitted, biting her lip and forcing herself to meet his eyes.

A remarkable thing happened then. First the corners of his lips turned up slightly, then his mouth widened, exposing his remarkably even teeth, so white against the tanned skin of his face. Then he laughed. It was a soft sound at first, but grew in both volume and enthusiasm until she finally she couldn’t help but join in. Their combined laughter drew her attention to the fact that she was no longer in discomfort where they were joined, in fact, the subtle movement felt incredibly good.

“Minx, I should punish you for what you made me endure,” he finally said when his laughter died, his voice a deep purr that sent a shiver down her spine. He brushed the hair from her face and looked down at her affectionately.

She smiled up at him shyly, “Well, that’s an area that I don’t have _any_ experience in. But I’m game to give it a go if you are?”

He chuckled again and his lips against hers, once more melting her with his kiss.

When he drew back she said softly, “I think… you can move now.”

“Thank the Maker,” he groaned in relief and shifted his hips enough to slide back only an inch or so before pressing himself into her again. Gently, slowly he continued, giving her body more time to adjust. It didn’t take long before her eyes were rolling back in her head.

“Oh,” she sighed.

“Alright?” he asked with a pump of his hips.

“Better than alright,” she moaned.

The look on his face… oh the look on her face was one which she would recall for nights to come. Sebastian ‘let me lead the Chant’ Vael looked down at her with a mischievous smile she never expect to see him wear and said to her in that damnably sexy brogue, “Then I can finally do this properly.”

And for the love of all that is holy, he did just that.

He pulled out of her fully, thrusting back into her without resistance as her body now welcomed him easily. Her back arched and her hips sought his out as each and every one of his long, cadenced stroke seemed to hit her in a place she didn’t even know existed previously. Nothing about him was still, his mouth was playing homage with her neck and jaw, and one of his hands found it’s way where they were joined.

Were all archers so skilled with their fingers? Or was he an exception? She couldn't find it in herself to care about the answer when moments later she was doing all she could to simply hang onto him as her body left her control. And he knew exactly what he was doing to her, going by his expression, teasing her and edging her along until she finally came, screaming his name as her body clenched around him. He did not last long after that, his eyes shut and his brow furrowed and he repeated her name over and over against her neck and lips and jaw, tensing and spilling inside her with a shudder and dusky moan.

Their breath eventually evened out and he curled against her, resting his cheek against her breast as they caught their breath.

“I fear you’ve ruined me for all other men, Sebastian,” she said when she was once more coherent.

He smirked at that. A cocky, full of himself smirk which she had to fight the urge to kiss off his face. She didn’t need to as it fell after a few moments, he glanced down between them and blushed when his gaze returned to hers.

“I fear that I may have to ruin you once more,” he said.

She looked to find him thickening and lengthening against her leg.

“The maiden’s foil still?”

He shrugged, “Perhaps,” he said slowly, glancing up at her with that devilish expression and admitted in a low, decidedly sexy tone of voice, “Perhaps not.”

“Any regrets?” she asked, hoping against all hope his answer was no.

He sighed, “Ask me after I’ve spent several hours being lectured by the Elthina and several more on my knees paying penance.”

She felt herself blush in shame, but once more he looked up at her with a devilish grin and confessed, “I expect, even after that, my answer will still be no.”

She was going to _kiss_ Isabela.

**Author's Note:**

> So this has been sitting in my documents for, oh, two years or so. I showed it to BushViper who assured me it was good enough to share. In other words it's all her fault I posted this, otherwise it would have continued to languish unloved on my computer. Apologies on the title, I just couldn't think of one! Speaking of BushViper, she's awesome guys. Go read her stuff!


End file.
